


What Could Have Been

by Sir Elliot (SirElliot)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Not Epilogue Compliant, post book 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-02-24
Packaged: 2017-12-03 12:20:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirElliot/pseuds/Sir%20Elliot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There exists an artifact that shows what could have been. Harry becomes obsessed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that came to me once. I may expand on it later. 
> 
> This is also posted at ff.net, by the way, under the name Elliot Green.

There exists an artifact. Of course, there exist many artifacts, many of them magical in some way. In that respect, this artifact is no different. It does the job its maker intended it to do, and that is that. But this artifact also carries a strange sort of power — a power over people. For this artifact shows not the past, nor the future, but the present. The present if something had been different. The present supposing the user had chosen a different path in life.

The day Harry Potter heard of this artifact was the day he was lost forever.

 

“Hey Harry, guess what?” Ron said leaning over to where Harry was slumped on the couch, book lying unread in his lap.

“What?” Harry asked, unmoving.

“Hermione was doing some reading the other day, and she found this list of cool artifacts that have been lost over the ages.”

“Hmm,” Harry said, his tone bored.

  
“There was one on there that lets you see what would have happened if you had done something differently. Isn’t that crazy?” Ron said, trying to get some excitement in his voice. Harry had been lethargic and depressed for weeks now, ever since the death of Voldemort. Hermione said he was just grieving for the people lost, and he would get better with time. But Harry had had time, and he still wasn’t getting any better. Ron was worried.

Harry finally looked over at Ron, some kind of light finally going on in his eyes. “It lets you see what could have been?” Harry asked, almost reverently.

“Er... Yes,” Ron said, uncertainly. It was nice to see Harry interested in something again, but this wasn’t exactly what Ron had in mind.

“What book was it?” Harry tried to ask casually, but he hadn’t asked any questions in weeks, hadn’t shown any interest in anything since...

“I actually have it here,” Ron said hesitantly. He gave the book a long glance before handing it over. Anything that got Harry interested in something again had to be good, right? Right?

 

“Harry, please come and eat dinner,” Hermione begged, staring at Harry surrounded by books in the library of the Black manor.

“I’m busy Hermione, I’ll eat later,” Harry said absently, flipping through pages.

“That’s what you said earlier! That’s what you said yesterday! Harry, please,” Hermione said desperately.

Harry looked up and glared at her. “Damn it Hermione, can’t you see I’m busy? Come back later.” Harry turned back to his book.

Hermione flinched when he swore at her, and then hesitantly shut the door. He was grieving, she told herself. You had to be delicate when someone was grieving. He would get over this, he just needed time. And anyway, he was in the library, studying. Wasn’t that a good thing?

Hermione brought him up a sandwich. Later, when she finally heard Harry leave the library, probably with a stack of books in his arm, she crept back inside and saw an empty plate. She sighed in relief. Maybe he would even get some sleep tonight too.

 

“Guys, I’m leaving,” Harry said, entering the kitchen for the first time in weeks.

“What?” Hermione said, confused, while Ron hastily swallowed his mouthful of food.

“You’re leaving?” Ron asked.

Harry nodded. “I’m going to Italy, there’s a library there which I think has the answers I’m looking for.”

Hermione frowned. “What answers?”

Harry shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving in an hour, I just need to finish packing.”

“Wait, give us a little more time!” Hermione said desperately. “We’ll come with you!”

Ron looked over at Hermion worriedly. “Hermione, I can’t leave, I’ve got work. You’ve got work.”

Hermione laughed, almost hysterically. “That’s fine, I’ll take some days off. I know I’ve only just started but I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“No, I need to go alone,” Harry said, and left the kitchen.

Hermione stared at the spot where he had been standing, while Ron stared at her.

“Hermione....”

“He’s still grieving, Ron. He needs us there.”

“Hermione, we can’t. We’ve got work. Harry will be okay on his own. Maybe this trip will even do him good. We can’t smother him all the time. Stuck in this dusty house, surrounded by memories of Sirius. Maybe that’s why he isn’t getting better. Let him go, Hermione.”

Hermione leaned back, as if stung. She finally looked over at Ron. “You think it’s our fault?” she said quietly.

Ron shook his head. “No, of course not. But maybe a change of scenery will do him good. Give him some time to think things over.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “Maybe. I guess. I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I. But I’m sure we’ll see him again soon.”

They didn’t.

 

After Italy, Harry went to France. Then Belgium, then Poland, then Germany, then Sweden. He travelled around Europe, following clues and rumors. He talked to historians and anthropologists and librarians and professors. He searched for any sign of an artifact that let you see what could have been.

Years later, so much later that he almost forgot where he came from, why he was doing this. He never forgot, not really, but he came close.

That’s when he finally found it.

He was old now, hair going grey, fully matured. He had learned a lot in his travels, lots of magic that British wizards didn’t even know existed. For a while he had supported himself of off his savings, but soon he found that people would pay to learn magic from other regions. People would pay for him to do foreign magic for them.

He became something of a legend, a legend based on skill rather than luck.

And he found the artifact, lost to generations upon generations of magic users.

It took him another month to figure out how to use it properly, but he had come across so many magical artifacts by then that he knew what to look for.

This one was special though. This was what he had been dreaming of.

He found it in an abandoned monastery. The artifact had been in the hand of a corpse, and surrounded by other corpses, long decomposed with only skeletons remaining.

That had been a little worrying, but he hadn’t let that stop him.

He was in his apartment now in Romania, where he had found the artifact. He gently activated it, and his eyes glazed over. Images flashed through his mind. If he hadn’t accidentally killed Sirius, then Sirius would have eventually gone insane from being cooped up, suffered flashbacks to Azkaban and offed himself. The prophecy would never have been destroyed and Voldemort would have eventually gotten hold of it.

If he had tried harder in school, then the final battle would have been the same, although he would have ended up marrying Hermione instead of Ron.

If he had never gone to Godric’s Hallow the final battle would have occurred months earlier, and Remus and Tonks would still be alive.

Over and over again he saw what could have been his life play out in different ways. He tried everything he could think of, looking for a scenario where he was finally happy.

Finally... “What if I had never gone looking for this artifact?” Harry asked it quietly. He saw it now, flashing before his eyes. Hermione had been right, he would have eventually gotten over it. He would have gotten a normal job and lived a normal life. He never would have traveled, never would have seen the sights he had seen. He would have married Ginny and raised a family and named a child after Severus Snape. He would have worked hard, but always been plagued by the fame of Harry Potter. He would have been happy, but there would have always been something missing.

Harry dropped the artifact and thought back on his life. He had been consumed by the search for the artifact at first, this was true, but eventually he had looked for other things as well. Yes, he still looked for the artifact, but he also made friends and taught young minds and learned everything he could. He could go to any country in Europe and there would be at least one person there whom he knew, whom he could look up and get a drink with. He knew people all across Europe who would be happy to let him crash on their couch, who would love to come to his wedding if he ever had one. There were even a few candidates for a bride and a best man.

He had friends, he was loved, and he loved in return.

Harry stared at the artifact. Finding the artifact had not made him happy, but the search for the artifact had.

“I don’t understand,” he told it. “You destroy lives. Those monks, they all died because of you. I thought I would be consumed as well, I thought you would destroy my life. Instead, you have given me one.”

The artifact sat still.

“Thank you,” Harry said. He stared at it for a moment, then carefully put in in a nice box. Then he Vanished it.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said to the air. “You were a magnificent piece of magical creation, but I could never let you keep existing. You are a danger to this world. You should never have been created, but I am selfishly glad you were. Thank you so much, for everything.”

Harry smiled softly to himself, and then left him apartment. He had some women to look up.


End file.
